The Slayer's Mission
by Finn Mac Cool
Summary: As the setting sun warmed the desert sands, the Slayer walked west.


            THE SLAYER'S MISSION

Author's Note/ If anybody is thinking of reviewing to say that I need to be more descriptive, I intentionally used sparse wording in describing events.  I'm thinking of writing another version using more descriptiveness.  Please say if you like it or you don't.

As the setting sun warmed the desert sands, the Slayer walked west.  Her feet were bare except for the calluses she had borne since her childhood.  She wore a white cloak that rippled with the slight traces of wind.  Her arms and face were exposed, not fearing sunburn.  Her dark skin covered taught and firm muscles.  Sweat trickled down her body.  Her dark hair hung behind her in a long ponytail.  Strapped to her back was a crossbow and a dozen wooden bolts; hanging from one arm were a sack and jug holding the Slayer's food and water.  Both had grown very light recently.

The desert was barren of life.  No plants grew and no beasts walked on the sands.  The only life the Slayer had seen for days was a small spider, waiting in a sand dune's shadow for food that would not come.  Water was a thing of the past.  If an oasis had ever been in the desert, it had died.  When rain fell it turned to steam before reaching the ground.  The Slayer had only her small rations to survive on, but they were enough for her.  Sand blew to the east, always to the east.  It stung against eyes.  It worked its way between teeth and wore them away.  But the Slayer never rubbed her eyes nor spit on the ground.  She just walked, ever westward, towards the setting sun.

She began to tread on not just sand, but stone as well.  Pebbles and pieces of rock started to litter the desert.  As she walked, the pebbles became as numerous as the specks of sand, and the rocks jutted out of the ground.  The Slayer passed rocks and bits of granite, but paid no heed to them.  They did not matter.

Then, she passed a small house.  It was made of stone and cement.  Its roof had collapsed in and two of the walls had crumbled.  The Slayer slightly turned her head to look at this fallen structure, but did not slow her pace or change her course.  However, her heart beat just a little quicker after seeing it.

More small houses came into view.  All were made from stone; there was no wood here.  Many were cracked and crumbling, but some stood solid.  Each had a stone door that left barely a seam where they met the wall.  There were never any windows.

In time, she noticed that the sand and pebbles were less prevalent.  They had faded away to leave a brick road, heading west just as she was.  The Slayer passed more houses, and now there were no signs of ruination.  All were simple, perfect blocks of stone.  She noted, at some point on the brick road, that she had entered a town.

There were no people on the streets, or in front of their houses.  There were no stores or factories or clubs.  There were no people at all, nor any sign of them save for an endless parade of identical stone huts.

The sun was nearing the horizon and the Slayer quickened her stride.  She passed houses again and again, and they gave no sign of changing their pattern.  It did not matter to her, though.  She knew that she would reach her goal if she kept walking west.

She saw the temple.  It was made of gray stone, just as all other buildings in that barren town were.  However, it was larger.  Its roof was no less than thirty feet above the ground, and it stretched across a hundred feet of ground.  The Slayer's eyes were nearly blinded by the fierce sun, which rested on top of the temple like a crown.  Never the less, she kept her face towards it and never looked away.  She walked closer to it.  Closer.

For the first time since she had risen over fourteen hours ago, the Slayer stopped.  She stood still and gazed at the temple.  It was but a few feet away, and its shadow engulfed her.  The simple stone houses had given away as they neared the temple.  The brick road the Slayer was on ran straight into a large, stone door set in the wall.  The writing over the door, etched into the stone in large, crude letters, confirmed that she had reached her destination.  The word carved there was:

HELLMOUTH

She took a step forward, and then another.  She rested her hands against the door and felt that the heat of the desert sun still dwelled deep in it.  Then the Slayer pushed hard, and the door swung open.The temple was centered around a large pit in the ground.  From out of it there came small clouds of smoke and the rotten stench of sulfur.  It gave off the red light of a fire, and nothing else served to dispel the shadows from the temple.  Kneeling near the edge of the pit were several creatures, the things-that-look-like-men.  They wore no clothes, for such luxuries were a thing of the past.  There was no fat on them, nor was there muscle.  Their skin, wrinkled and dry, sagged on top of skeletal bones.  They had the look of men who had not eaten for years, but whose bodies would not let them die.  Their faces were horribly disfigured:  foreheads were covered in lumps, eyes glowed a diseased yellow, and fangs dominated their mouths.  Of these un-men, only one did not kneel.  He stood near the pit, a centuries old book in his hands, his lips speaking in a tongue not meant to be spoken aloud.

All of the creatures froze for a moment, and then turned their heads to the open door.  The Slayer was not supposed to be here.  This was not her time, nor her place.  And she did not care.  Quickly she dropped the loads her arms bore and pulled her crossbow from off her back.  Before any of the un-men could react, she fired a wooden bolt, striking one in his chest.  The creature that stood instead of kneeling bellowed and leaped across the pit.  The other things-that-look-like-men followed.  They had no strategy or fighting discipline.  Their mouths were salivating in hunger, forgetting the danger that their prey posed.  The Slayer placed a new bolt into her crossbow and fired it.  Another un-man was struck and turned to dust.  She reloaded quicker and quicker, killing two more of the things.  An un-man reached her, but she punched him in the forehead.  His skull caved in and his brains squished.  He dropped to the ground, injured and unconscious.  The second un-man leaped at the Slayer.  He tried to tackle her while lunging his mouth towards her neck.  She slammed a knee into his chest, shattering most of his ribs and he fell back too.  The last of the things-that-look-like-men, the one who had been reciting from the book, reached her last.  He pinned her shoulders to the ground and held her firmly.  His tongue was wagging crazily and his foam poured out from between his fangs.  Before he could satisfy his hunger, though, the Slayer gripped his arms.  With strength beyond that of humans she snapped the bones until the limbs were useless.  Still the un-man made a last, failed attempt to kill her, and might have succeeded had he not been weakened from starvation.  The Slayer, now with her arms free, shoved him off of her.  Before he could regain his feet, she grabbed her crossbow again and shot him in the heart.  He turned to dust.

She took the wooden bolt from the un-man's pile of ashes and stabbed the two injured ones in the heart, reducing them to dust.  Walking across the bare, temple floor, the Slayer reached the pit.  Looking into it, she could see no end.  It just went further and further downward into smoke, heat, and that sulfurous smell.  She turned her head away from the pit and saw the book the un-man had been using.  Swiftly, she ripped the tome to pieces, scattering them across the ground.

The Slayer had completed her mission.  No more could be expected of her.  She walked around the pit again and came to where she had dropped her belongings.  She opened one of her sacks and took out a small piece of bread and a spot of near rancid meat.  She devoured both.  She then opened her jug and drank the mouthful of water she had saved.  She sighed in contentment.

She gathered the bolts she had fired and picked up her crossbow once more.  The Slayer left the temple through the western door, weapon ready and raised.

As she pushed the stone door open, she was greeted by the sun setting over the ocean a few miles away.  It was to be the last sunset she would ever see.  Calmly, she sat down just outside the temple and savored the hues of red, orange, purple, and yellow the sun cast as it sank.  She enjoyed it.

Then the sun finished its course.  The last of its bright radiance slipped below the horizon.  The Slayer saw this and turned her gaze to the stone houses that surrounded her.  A door opened several houses down.  The Slayer tensed as someone stepped out.  More doors opened from the inside and the street started to fill with human-like creatures, each as nude and as emaciated as those she had killed in the temple.  In the gathering gloom, their eyes glowed like torches.  One of the things-that-look-like-men sniffed the air.  He could smell her blood and sweat.  He could smell her life.  All of the creatures caught the scent of the only living thing in the cursed town.  Eyes flaring with excitement, one of the un-men rushed towards the Slayer.  His charge was followed by dozens of other un-men, un-women, and un-children.  They charged her, smelling the first trace of food in years.  When one of the un-women was but ten feet away, the Slayer sprang to her feet and fired a crossbow bolt.  The small shaft of wood penetrated the creature's heart, but it kept running to her until it crumbled into ashes.  She reloaded her weapon and fired again.  Another un-man died.  Again and again the Slayer fired and each time one of the things died.  Soon she had no more bolts left to fire, and fought the creatures hand to hand.  The un-men, weak from famine, crumpled with each blow the Slayer struck.  She broke her crossbow in half and used it as a stake, reducing many to ash.  But, no matter how many she killed, there were hundreds all around her.  They leaped at her unskillfully, but there were too many to dodge.  She was knocked to the ground by a barrage of things-that-look-like-men.  They swarmed her like ants.  The Slayer's body was punctured by fangs in a hundred places.  Her blood was drained from her.  Eventually, only a dry husk was left where the greatest warrior on the planet had once been.


End file.
